


The Urgency of Doing

by sassy_cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Electrophilia, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Rough Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cat/pseuds/sassy_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix understands that to do something well you need to have experience, and her Lord expects the best. Rodolphus understands Bellatrix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Urgency of Doing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta J for the kind insight and helpful suggestions.

**Author:** [](http://sassy-cat.livejournal.com/profile)[**sassy_cat**](http://sassy-cat.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:** The Urgency of Doing  
 **Pairing:** Bellatrix/Rodolphus  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** electrical torture, rack BDSM: Electrophilia, brutal sex  
 **Word Count:** 4,250  
 **Summary:** Bellatrix understands that to do something well you need to have experience, and her Lord expects the best. Rodolphus understands Bellatrix.  
 **Notes:** Thank you to my beta J for the kind insight and helpful suggestions.  
 **Prompt:** #68 – by [](http://aliciadances.livejournal.com/profile)[**aliciadances**](http://aliciadances.livejournal.com/) \- “Dying is an art. / Like everything else, / I do it exceptionally well. / I do it so it feels like hell. / I do it so it feels real. / I guess you could say I have a call.” -Sylvia Plath

 

  


The Urgency of Doing

" _Lumos_." Some Mudblood's mother is supposed to be hiding out here, though she can't imagine why. The place is a heap, bad even for Muggles.

She pauses when she hears a soft gasp. Pleasure floods through her because the fools they hunt never learn. Her Lord will be pleased.

She presses against the wall to get a better listen, hoping to hear a sob or a whimper, and pain erupts all through her shoulder, burning her inside and out. She's trapped within a deep, buzzing agony, and her mind blanks to white.

Her knees buckle, and she's lying on a filthy Muggle's floor, curled up like a newborn. Seconds feel like minutes as her arm aches and her head pounds— it's like the time a Bludger hit her but more, so much more.

Rodolphus rushes to her and scoops her up into his arms. She tries to pull away. She doesn't want him to show how much he cares or to make her look weak, but before she can get her wits back, he's brushing the hair from her eyes and cooing nonsense.

Stung by embarrassment, she pushes him away and grapples for her wand. She spins around and crouches into her best fighting position. Still off kilter, she lacks her usual grace, but she's determined to try to hide it.

If she has to fight friend as well as foe… well, it won't be the first time. But to be hit from behind, that's an insult she won't permit. Someone's going to pay.

Shaking with rage, she shrieks, "What the hell was that? Who hexed me?"

With the shrewd expertise that she's acquired from years of searching out traitors, she studies each of them. They all seem bewildered, except Snape, who looks amused. Just the sight of him makes her gut burn. "Snape, I know it was you. Slimy bastard!"

Salazar, but she hates him. He holds his wand steadily, meeting her gaze. "While I certainly have the talent to do so, I can't take credit for that bit of entertainment. That was electricity, Muggle magic."

_Muggle magic?_ He hexes her and then tries to play her for a fool. That prick loves to construct spells. Does he think she'd forget? "Liar! I know you did it. You are jealous of how much our Lord favours me."

"I'm not the one jeopardising the mission." The bastard has the audacity to sneer. "You seem a bit rattled, Bellatrix. Perhaps you should return to the safe house and spare us from witnessing any more of Rodolphus' tender ministrations."

The lingering pain mixed with his humiliating dismissal overwhelms her. She won't be mocked like a wayward schoolgirl caught out of bounds. "Muggles have nothing that could hurt me. I won't be your fool. _Impedimenta_! _Confringo_! _Crucio_!"

When she's finished, Dolohov and Rookwood are writhing on the floor, gasping in pain, but Snape is glowering from behind some sort of shimmering shield… one of his original Charms, no doubt, the show off.

He'll pay yet. Time is something she has in abundance these days, and ingenuity is her specialty. A little creative pain is just what he deserves. She glares at him one last time before hissing, "This is not finished."

Intent on completing the mission with her pride intact, she whirls around... and she sees it, a wire sticking out of the wall, silver and frayed at the end. It's too much, the idea of Snape being right and Muggles making such sweet pain. How dare they. " _Reducto_!" she screams, blasting the wall apart.

Sobs from the next room greet her ears, and Bellatrix peers through the giant hole made by her spell to see an old woman dressed in bulky, Muggle nightwear.

She's trembling in the corner, hands over her ears and tears in her eyes. Bellatrix gives her a cheeky smile and a wave before she turns the corner to finish what they came to do.

 

~

 

She rushes back as quickly as she can, feeling vulnerable even behind the wards. Her chest is heaving by the time she reaches the door, and she rushes inside, falling back against the firm wood. It's getting too dangerous to go out, bloody Aurors.

'Bellatrix Lestrange!' It's whispered or screamed everywhere. She admits that the fear in their voices is flattering, but there is a distinctively bad side to being notorious.

It's only in this house that she can relax and be certain of her safety. Still, she's starting to hate here. What she needs is a distraction.

She has too much energy and no way to burn it off. She's hunted throughout the wizarding world, seen as just a name and face on a wanted poster.

When she steps out, the posters, they're everywhere. The image they're showing to the world is but a tiny part of her, seized against her will when she was hopeless and outraged by the injustice of being incarcerated for doing her Lord's bidding.

It's galling to know they're using one of her worst memories to help their lying cause. Her Lord keeps saying patience is needed. Patience? How much longer must she moulder here? She desperately needs to prove herself… to find some release for this constant buzzing in her head, or she's certain she may go mad.

She pushes away from the door, feeling defeated. She doesn't want to waste yet another afternoon sitting in her lumpy chair, staring into the fire and hiding away from all that's rightfully hers.

It's so unfair that she must hide while those who are destroying the old ways wander freely, eating away at tradition like a bunch of Chizpurfles in a wand shop. She rubs her temples and knows another headache is coming.

The worst thing about having too much time alone is that there's always a feeling of restlessness. It's an edginess that never leaves her mind; instead, it feeds the feeling that she should be out there doing something _somewhere_ rather than waiting, always waiting.

The same thoughts race through her mind like a Repeating Jinx. _I must be of use to my Lord. I mustn't abandon the noble ways of my ancestors._ But what can be done from here? Nothing… nothing.

The last raid lingers in her thoughts as she tries to chase away her boredom, and it taunts her with possibilities. 'Sinners! The Lord shall free me and cast you into eternal Hell.' That's what the old woman said just before she'd snuffed the light out of her eyes.

She'd simply thought back to all those years in Azkaban and smiled before telling the lifeless old bitch, 'I've already been there.'

Looking around the safe house, with its sparse furnishings and absence of anything familiar, she realises that she's in just another kind of prison. Inside Azkaban or out, it seems that there's no freedom to be found. That just won't do.

There is another option, but she's not certain she can stomach it. Would freedom of movement be worth mingling amongst the Muggles?

She searches the flames, wishing an easy answer would come. She's just been chased by Aurors, nearly captured, and as reckless and unappealing as this idea seems, she knows she can't take much more of being confined to this hidey-hole.

Muggles may be vermin, but they do have that bit of false magic, and she could learn to use it for the fight against the blood traitors. She grins as she imagines the expressions on the Muggle-loving fool's faces if she gave them a taste of what their precious Muggles make.

For the first time in weeks, Bellatrix laughs with glee, startling Rodolphus from his napping spot on the sofa. Muggle magic it is, then: a new way she can help the cause.

 

~

 

Finding a lone Muggle is much easier than she'd expected, and Mary is ever so useful. With the help of a well-timed Imperius, Bellatrix makes Mary's cottage her new Muggle base.

It was tempting to start right away with Mary, but Bellatrix has learned a lot from her Lord. Sometimes unsavoury types must be endured to ease the stress of a researcher. Why else would Peter still be scampering about?

Mary is good at doing the clean-up and popular in the neighbouring village. Whenever one of Mary's routines is interrupted, someone wanders up to the door to check in on her. It's almost as if Mary is Muggle bait.

If she'd known it was going to be this easy to get the victims to come to her, she would have used the Muggle world back when she experimented with potions and knives.

Since she left Hogwarts, self-education has been her secret advantage. No one expected a witch to survive, much less thrive, in the Dark Lord's service. They assumed that she would be too weak or too emotional, but what they all discovered was that she'd do anything to be valuable to her Lord.

This Muggle magic is just another skill that she must master to prove that she's more loyal and more devoted than the wizards who still scoff behind her back.

The first experiment is named Irene. She shows up to ask Mary something about the WI, not that Bellatrix cares anything about their Muggle nonsense.

Irene is a huge disappointment because she dies almost instantly, but it is useful to discover that metal chairs make her silver wires spark fire. Thank Merlin, she'd thought to Levitate the cord, or she'd surely have singed her hair.

The following day Jean shows up to bring Mary some of her fresh scones. Bellatrix is delighted and happy to make her the second experiment. She is, however, careful to keep her away from metal.

She ties her up with rope, and once the wall cord is attached to her skin, Bellatrix watches captivated as she flops around while pissing herself.

When she's clearly dead, Bellatrix tosses the cord aside and runs her fingers over the red lines that are branching out all over the angry, reddened flesh of her arms and back. Again, the death is too quick for her needs, but these lines give her an idea.

The next day passes with no visitors, and Bellatrix starts considering Mary for the next experiment. She's anxious to expand on her thoughts, but just to prove how terrifically lucky Mary can be, a knock comes at lunchtime when dear Kenneth pops round to find out if she's feeling well. Apparently, it's not like her to miss choir practice.

This time she has to remember to proceed with caution. She can't allow herself to be caught up in the fun of it. She knows that she's been away from the safe house for too long, and this experiment needs to show promise, something she can show her Lord, or she may have to abandon the study.

The Muggles can't seem to bear extended contact with their false magic. As a tool for torture against the blood traitors, she needs to be able to stretch out the pain.

Maybe this Muggle magic is a bit like the Cruciatus, best used repeatedly in short periods. Maybe if she zaps the experiment here and there rather than holding the cord at one place, the outcome will be different.

She Vanishes the man's clothing and shoes before binding him head to toe. She wants to see if the lines will run like lightning all over his body. She thinks the Dark Lord will find the lightning bit amusing, and she's anxious to get it right.

A loud pop of Apparition breaks her from her musing, and she turns to see a seething Rodolphus storming toward her, wand drawn and ready for a fight. Before she can even greet him, he's asking, "Bella, what is this?"

He gestures between her and the Muggle experiment, his anger shifting to pain, and he whispers, "How could you?"

She realises from his expression and hushed tone that he thinks she's shagging Muggles. The audacity! "Rodolphus, you blind bugger, look at him. Does he look like he's up for shagging?"

"But, Bella --"

"And how did you find me?"

He looks relieved but a little resentful as he says, "We're bonded, remember, or have you forgot that you're my wife?"

She rolls her eyes, despising how dramatic he can be. "Shush, you."

He grabs her arm, forcing her to look at him. "You've been gone for too long. It's not safe. You're supposed to stay at the house. What was I to think?"

His fears have always irritated her, just like his need to play by the rules, ever the Prefect. She jerks her arm free and glares defiantly with her chin up because she's not the one who's wrong. "I'm working on a surprise for our Lord. He will forgive me when I've managed it."

Rodolphus eyes the white cord in her hand, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit, before he leans against the wall next to the only window.

The midday's sun is beaming through and falls on his hair, showing off the red highlights so often hidden by the dark hairs that surround them. For a moment, her heart softens. She remembers how he used to laugh while he chased her half the way to Hogsmeade on sunny Saturday afternoons.

She gives him a gentle smile and almost reaches out to touch his face, but remembers the cord in her hand. Holding it in front of him, she says, "I'm trying to master it. I want to harness that pain I felt on the last raid, and find a way to channel it."

Unlike the others, Rodolphus has never been threatened by her desire to learn, her need to search out new ways to impress their Lord. "Show me, then. Let me see what my wife has been up to while I've been lying about."

Experiment three is squirming, watching her wave the cord with what looks like trepidation etched across his face. She ignores him in favour of sharing her previous results with Rodolphus.

"I've had some bad luck. The first two died straight away, but this one I'm going to zap a little at a time. I'm hoping to draw out the pain, and see if I can still make these lovely red lines that I managed to get last time."

Rodolphus follows her over to the man, standing to her right just as he does when they go into battle. It feels good to have him here, someone familiar to bounce around her ideas.

She touches the wires to experiment three's feet, one then the other, quickly at first but then holding the cord in place longer and longer until she starts to see the lines. She stops and shows Rodolphus. "Those are what I mean. If they go on long enough they look like lightning."

She knows she must be wearing the impish grin that Rodolphus loves because he pulls her into a deep kiss. "Bella, you're brilliant. How are you holding that without hurting yourself?"

She shows him that the Muggles have created some kind of coating to cover it. "I don't know what it is, but it keeps the power trapped inside."

He whistles and leans in closer. "Impressive, who'd have thought? I bet we could expand that to make it larger."

She nods her head in agreement. Experiment three makes a tiny noise, and she scowls because he's interrupted her plotting. The stupid Muggle should have learnt to be quiet. "Let me show you what they do when you put the wire on their chests."

She Levitates the cord over until it's snuggly between the ropes, and it almost latches on to him. He jerks and twists, and she glances over to Rodolphus who's watching with fresh fascination.

She takes his hand and whispers, "Wouldn't you love to see the blood traitors meet such an appropriate end? I really want to make this work for our Lord."

He squeezes her hand, and she can see his mind is whirling with ideas. "It's remarkable, but how are you going to transport it? You can't keep staying here. If you're serious then you need to find a way to take it back to our world."

When he's like this, she just wants to engulf his cock and suck him dry. He's full of ingenuity if the motivation suits and she needs him on this.

She presses her hip against him and reaches out to cup his trousers. Staring up into his eyes, she asks, "You'll help me? You've always been better at Charms."

She feels him hardening against her palm, and she knows she's won. Still, there is a way to be certain that he won't change his mind. "If you help me, we can add it to our play. You know how I like it when you punish me… and I do deserve it for making you worry."

His toothy grin tells her that she's put things right. He grabs her, pulling her close and nearly suffocates her with his kiss. When he pulls away, he murmurs into her ear, "I think we should get back to the house. I need you in our bed."

She grins and squeezes his arse, pleased to be getting her way. "Soon. There's just one little loose end that I need to take care of first. I daresay my ever useful Mary has to be primed to go and make her confession."

He looks at her with his brow raised in question. "Who's Mary? What confession?"

"Ah, Mary is the Muggle who lives in this cottage, and I'm afraid that she's gone round the twist and taken to killing her friends in the most alarming ways. Let's have a quick chat with her, and then we'll negotiate the terms of our latest partnership in bed."

 

~

 

Water drips from a pipe above her, falling down onto her shivering shoulders, tickling the hypersensitive skin. Her wrists have been raw for hours, but she needs the help from the ropes to stay upright.

She can hear his ragged breaths from across the room even as her feet drag back and forth on the floor. As her body begins to still, she smiles.

It's moments like these that she remembers why she married Rodolphus.

This is a wizard who understands how to have a good time. He's not afraid to stare death in the face, to push the play as far as it can go. Rodolphus becomes sexier every time he chokes down his fears and gives her what she needs.

From the look in his eyes, she can tell that when he finally takes her, it's going to be fantastic. He approaches slowly as if he's afraid she's going to find a way to break free and attack him. He stares at her uncovered body, fixing his lustful gaze on her breasts.

His erection is obvious beneath his thin robe, and he makes no effort to hide it. He lets his fingers run down her throat, squeezing at the pulse points before cupping her tits. He tightens the clamps on her nipples, doing it smoothly despite the trembling that she can't control.

"Bella, Bella, Bella, you've been such a naughty girl. If you want to stay there, I'm going to have to mend that pipe. What's it to be, my sweet? Shall I make you twitch again, or should I just cut you down and punish you for ruining our special time?"

His long fingers run through her hair that's dampened by water and sweat before he leans in to bite and lap at her earlobe. He whispers, "Think carefully… each one has its own reward."

Bellatrix jerks her head away from his lips. She's intent on keeping the game going. "Mend it." He chuckles at her, but she's having none of it. "Finish me, dammit. You know what I want."

Rodolphus meets her gaze and she's delighted to see that he's irritated. Now he will stop the needless flirting that he likes so much. Sulking in reply, he casts a Repairing Charm on the pipe and snatches the prod from his pocket.

It has taken them months to enchant the thing. The spells just didn't want to stick; it was as if their magic knew it was being tainted by touching the Muggle magic, but now, it's perfect and seeing him hold it makes her tingle with anticipation.

Circling around behind her, he grinds his cock against her arse, taunting her with what's going to come later. He grants her what she desires but he takes his pleasure in spades.

When he steps back, he points his wand at the long, metal stick and murmurs the activation spell. She watches, wetting her lips. When the prod touches her skin, the pain makes her magic sing. It's horrific… a stunning, humbling pain.

It's glorious and she loves it every time her soul shatters underneath its sting. Every shake, every jolt reminds her that death is closer with each breath. Life fights so hard to remain inside such a fragile shell.

She hangs, twisting against her will, engulfed by the sensation of her muscles contracting all over her body. He drops the prod and kneels in front of her, grabbing her hips to try to steady her. He begins to lick her folds and suck at her clit. Salazar, but the man has a talented tongue.

He forces her to feel pleasure, teasing her slowly until she can't decide where to focus. His fingers and mouth work in tandem, taking the time to distract her from the agony that coursing through her body, coercing her to surrender to him.

Her entire world centres on this man as he coaxes her to feel beyond the vibrating ache until she can take no more. Her orgasm pulses through her, and despite its strength, it pales in comparison to the touch of the prod. She's left gasping and torn between euphoria and loss.

Pulling back, he looks up and smirks. "You want to hurt again, don't you?"

Her laughter fills the room. He stands up and tries to kiss her, but she turns away. Twisting her arms so that she can grip the ropes, she groans, "Just you try."

Rodolphus pulls her to him, grabs her face and gives her a biting kiss. Just when she starts to relax into his arms, he shoves her away and rips open his robe.

His cock pushes against her, hot and hard, and she aches for it to fill her. He grabs her thighs, lifting her legs up around his waist. She's too weak to grip him, but he doesn't seem to mind as he lines up and slides into her wetness.

He pounds a fierce rhythm, digging his fingers into her arse cheeks to hold her in place. He groans and whispers, "You're so wet… You're mine, never forget." Just when she thinks he's going to lose it, he licks her neck and seems to remember his plan for her arse.

She has to hold back a gasp when he pulls out and drops her legs. Her shoulders throb as they struggle to support her full weight, and she wishes she could kick him. Circling around behind, he parts her cheeks and fingers her hole.

His breath on her neck makes her moan, and she pushes back, feeling him still slick with her juices.

"This is going to hurt. Are you ready to be split in two?"

"Do it," she sneers, and so he does. Rodolphus isn't kind when he fucks.

Fully sheathed in her arse, he reaches around to pull on the clamps that are wrenching her swollen nipples. His voice is raspy as he mutters, "You're so tight and delicious. I don't know why I don't keep my cock here all the time."

She leans back, resting her head on his chest and squeezes his cock with her arse. She grins when he gasps, and she teases, "Because you love my pussy and mouth too much." He reaches up to caress her face and she grimaces, gritting her teeth and growling, "Do you want to fuck or cuddle?"

His hand jerks away back to her breast, clenching it, trying to punish her. He starts to take her again, this time ravaging her body with violent thrusts. He knows better than to be gentle because she needs his brutality, needs to feel his strength.

It's such a sweet suffering as his cock pounds her arse, impaling her until she's certain that she's bleeding. It aches just as he promised. His movements are becoming erratic, and when he bites her shoulder, she understands that he's about to find his release.

She knows what he needs to finish, so she fights against his restraints and struggles in his arms, letting out a shrill scream. He moans, "Yes," and tenses just as he fills her up with his seed, shaking almost as much as she does.

They stay entwined until he finds the strength to pull out. He cuts her down and gently places her onto the floor. When he starts rubbing some of the feeling back into her arms, she can tell he feels guilty.

His touch is too soft, too kind. He always complains after about not liking to hurt her, but this is all she has to give him. Until they're free and living in a world of their Lord's choosing, the lovemaking that Rodolphus craves will have to wait.


End file.
